


The Scrubland's Singer

by The_narwhals_awaken



Series: The Cryptid Files [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Creepy, Gen, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:22:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27144466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_narwhals_awaken/pseuds/The_narwhals_awaken
Summary: In times like these, it's not safe to travel the Scrublands alone.  A wagon transporting several acolytes, and two Sisters, has joined up with several hooded and cloaked figures, in order to cross the Scrublands.  Neither group is willing to interfere with the other.  As they make their way across the dry land, the wind picks up, bringing the fog with it.  This would be normal, except for the singer within the fog.
Series: The Cryptid Files [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981387
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	The Scrubland's Singer

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is in my NaNo series.  
> Yes, I am aware it hasn't started yet.  
> No, I don't care.  
> Where else would I put it?

The wind blew, howling over the plains, and carried with it a surge of the ever-present fog. Soon, the travelers could barely see a length ahead of them, but they kept moving forwards. They needed to get to their destination, and although some were nervous or kept glancing towards the one at the head, they pressed forwards regardless. 

Near the back, there was a line of young acolytes, traveling with the group only because it wasn’t safe to travel the Scrublands alone these days, and the Shobogans charged more than the Sisterhood could get to those young ones. While it was worth the cost to ensure that the new girls arrived safely, the few Sisters who guided them and led them through the first rounds of meditation kept their eyes peeled. Now, they were conversing in murmured whispers with their Shobogan guides, clearly attempting to see how much longer the two- three, if you counted the fact that the Shobogans brought their families along- groups would have to travel together before they could separate. A high, chilling screech split the air, and the acolytes clustered together, huddling on the wagon and pressing closer, circling up instinctively to protect heads and limbs, shivering not from the cold, for although the fog brought a chill, the heavy robes they wore and the remnants of the afternoon sunlight kept them warm enough, but from something deeper. 

The quiet whispers of the guides and the Sisters fell silent, as did the chatter from the other group and the noise of the children. For a few seconds, they all sat still, the wagons having halted soon after everyone fell silent. One of the hooded figures in the other party drew themselves up, seemingly to speak, when a voice rang out from the fog. The words were ones they knew, a nursery rhyme they’d all learned and skipped ropes too, giggling when somebody tripped, but nobody was laughing now.    
  


“Zagreus sits inside your head/Zagreus lives among the dead/Zagreus sees you in your bed/And eats you when you’re sleeping” 

The singer seemed somewhat masculine, light, cultured tones easily carrying his words far. Although he seemed light, sing-song like the poem was always spoken, there seemed something hiding behind the light words. 

“Zagreus at the end of days/Zagreus lies all other ways/Zagreus comes when time’s a maze/And all of history’s weeping”

On ‘lies’, the singer’s voice cracked for just a moment. Quiet whispers started to spread amongst the other group, who had evidently recognized the voice. One that had kept to the edges of the group was confronting the one who had spoken, evidently mad about something. 

“Zagreus taking time apart/Zagreus seeks the hero’s heart/Zagreus seeks the final part/The reward that he is reaping”

The singer was clearly scared, a quiet waver hidden behind the strong words ringing out. The argument was getting louder, although neither were willing to rise above a loud whisper. The snatches the acolytes could catch seemed to point that the confronter was upset about somebody that the speaker would have put in danger, while the speaker was denying the danger the third person was in. 

“Zagreus sings when all is lost/Zagreus takes all those he’s crossed/Zagreus wins and all it costs/The hero’s hearts he’s keeping”

On the last line, the singer’s voice broke again, provoking the argument like poking a fire. Others were frozen, clearly recognizing the voice, and how it was getting louder and clearer. The speaker was still defending himself, but nobody looked convinced.

“Zagreus seeks the hero’s ship/Zagreus needs the Web to rip/Zagreus sups time at a drip/And life aside he’s sweeping”

The first arguer seems especially mad about something, looming over the other and pointing accusingly, but they are hauled away. The fog has circled them, forming a loop around the travelers, but leaving a clear space around them. They push back their hood, revealing the face of Cardinal Braxiatel, clearly worried. 

“Zagreus waits at the end of the world/For Zagreus is the end of the world/His time is the end of time/And his moment time’s undoing”

This part is much clearer, the singer trying to warn them of something- or getting closer. The faint image of a figure standing in the fog appears at the edge of their view. The would-be speaker also pushes back their hood, revealing that they are President Rassilon. The acolytes shiver, the Sisters bracketing them, ready to act. The secrets of Karn are many and deep, but the protection of the acolytes is also important. The girls know what’s next- the final couplet.

“Zagreus sets the skies ablaze/The stars his flame a-gleaming”

For a moment, they wait in silence. Some slump in relief, glad that it’s over, but the figure steps forwards, becoming more clear. It’s an odd figure, dressed in a waistcoat over the remnants of a white button-down, nice clothes slightly worn, a broken pocket watch dangling out of a pocket, no shoes on its feet. It has nice hair, one acolyte notices. Brown, but clearly well-tended and softly curling. Its eyes are full of madness, the void of time and anti-time swirling out of them in a physical presence, and nobody looks directly at them. The entire other group has frozen, the two original speakers taking a half-step forwards. 

“Zagreus is my secret name/Zagreus is the one to blame/Zagreus is the Time Lord’s shame/The beast that I’ve been keeping” it sings. 

The acolytes shriek, as Cardinal Braxiatel takes an aborted step, and the Lord President leans forwards. 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic happens to be a birthday present to myself, posted early to give me the validation of comments! 
> 
> Let me know what you liked, and possibly any ideas for NaNo! If I use your prompt, credit for the idea goes to you.


End file.
